


Gasoline

by sky_blue_hightops



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arguing, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Connor Deserves Happiness, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, someone make these boys chill out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_blue_hightops/pseuds/sky_blue_hightops
Summary: Hank rolled his eyes. "So? We've been over this. I don't care, and no one asked you to either. Shove off, kid.""No, I will not 'shove off', Hank, not when you refuse to acknowledge my concerns or listen to me in any capacity!" Connor rounded the table to stand before him, and with Hank still sitting, he felt...he felt threatened. He felt like he was at a disadvantage both because of their positioning and because, to some extent, Hank recognized Connor was right. A sour mixture of anger and guilt pulled at his insides."I hear you nag about my health multiple times a day!" Hank stood up. He was done with this entire argument and wanted nothing but to never think about his health again, but the stupid kid seemed intent on rubbing Hank's face in his own messes. "Does it make you feel 'superior', Connor? Do you feel better about how put together you are when you get on to me about how much I'm not?!" His chest hurt.***dad and kid argue, Things Are Bad And Then Good Again





	1. Chapter 1

Connor frowned. Hank sat across the table from him, half asleep over a glass of whiskey and hair hanging down into his face. He was the picture of misery and self-pity, and it both concerned Connor and frustrated him to no end. How many times had he advised Hank to take care of himself, to stop drinking so much? His counsel always seemed to fall on deaf ears, and Hank continued to drink his sorrows away in alcohol until he couldn't think straight.

On one hand, the simple fact that Hank ignored Connor's concerns was frustrating. On the other, the fact that Hank was still in such deep emotional turmoil as to drink so heavily was, well, disheartening. Was Connor's presence in his life not helping? Was Connor doing something wrong? Was he continuing to fail at understanding human feelings? Was Connor just...not enough?

Hank slammed the glass down on the table hard enough to startle Connor from his thoughts. "You're thinkin' so hard, you're gonna give _me_ a headache," the older man sighed.

Connor stood up abruptly, gripping the edge of the table. "Hank I must inform you that with the amount of alcohol you have consumed, you'll have a headache anyway." His words came out strained. The room fell into a tense silence.

Hank eyed him, recognizing that the mood had shifted. Connor was glaring down at him - and his drunken mind took that as a challenge. "You got something to say about my drinkin'?"

Connor leveled him with a gaze like cold metal. "Yes, I do. You drink far too much, and when combined with your poor eating habits, you actively shorten your lifespan with every drink you consume."

Hank rolled his eyes. "So? We've been over this. I don't care, and no one asked you to either. Shove off, kid."

"No, I will not 'shove off', Hank, not when you refuse to acknowledge my concerns or listen to me in any capacity!" Connor rounded the table to stand before him, and with Hank still sitting, he felt...he felt threatened. He felt like he was at a disadvantage both because of their positioning and because, to some extent, Hank recognized Connor was right. A sour mixture of anger and guilt pulled at his insides.

"I hear you nag about my health multiple times a day!" Hank stood up. He was done with this entire argument and wanted nothing but to never think about his health again, but the stupid kid seemed intent on rubbing Hank's face in his own messes. "Does it make you feel 'superior', Connor? Do you feel better about how put together you are when you get on to me about how much I'm not?!" His chest hurt. 

Connor seemed to realize how close Hank was to snapping, LED flashing red before returning to yellow. He took a step back, eyes flashing with - was that fear? - but Hank didn't notice. He couldn't process much more than the fury burning under his skin. The room blurred and so did his focus, but his words were razor-sharp. "You're always nagging about this, about that, about my drinking and my eating - why don't you just leave if it annoys you so much? Why are you still here, idiot?!" He spat.

It was a step too far. Connor's eyes filled with tears. "I've stayed because you took me in when I had nowhere else to go." He replied quietly. His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat before continuing in a dangerously low tone. "I-" He looked down with something akin to shame spreading across his face. Shame and embarrassment. "I thought you liked having me around-" He scrubbed at his eyes, frustrated. "I think of you as a father, Hank. I've stayed because I thought we were family." A long silence. The android glanced towards the door. "But it's clear you do not think of me the same way." A few steps and Connor was at the door, grabbing his sweatshirt and pulling it on. He hovered in the doorway for a second, suddenly looking very small and very sad. _Say something, stupid_ , Hank thought, but the words stuck in his throat. "I'll be back shortly. Don't come looking for me." The younger detective disappeared out the door, shoulders slumped against the rain.

Hank sat back down, stunned. Connor had slipped through his fingers, just like that. Just like his sanity, just like his happiness.

Sumo sent Hank a mournful look. The older man buried his face in his hands, a few tears leaking between his fingers. "I-I messed up, boy. Again." He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes, before cursing loudly and swiping his glass off the table.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our boys are due for a good talk, me thinks

Rain poured down. It soaked through Connor's hair and sweatshirt but it rained so often in Detroit being wet was something he was acclimated to.

He didn't know where he was going, but the regular pace of his steps helped him think. He wondered, realistically, how long he could keep walking. _All night_ , he realized, and stopped in the middle of the road.

What he thought was irritation burned at his skin. Logically, he knew Hank was inebriated and likely had no control over what he was saying, but that raised questions. _How long had Hank been wanting to say those things? How long had he been overstaying his welcome?_

Connor started walking again, unconsciously pulling at his sleeves. _Keep walking or find somewhere to wait until morning?_

He turned in the direction of the police station.

***

Hank gave himself half an hour to feel sorry for himself, and spent about ten of those minutes doing exactly that before the guilt took over. Connor was wandering Detroit, and while he knew the android could take care of himself, the irrational fear that _the one time Hank wasn't there, something would go wrong_ tugged at his conscience.

Hank cursed, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He shrugged it on and pocketed his keys, clipping on Sumo's leash. He opened the door and slammed it behind him, taking a shred of satisfaction from the force with which it banged against the doorframe. He jogged down to the end of the block, shivering under the onslaught of rain, before hesitating at the streetlight. _Which way would a lone police android go?_

Sumo barked, looking up at him with droopy eyes before turning to the right and tugging at the leash. Hank stumbled a half-step before regaining his balance - Sumo was always an easy walker, and never pulled. He sighed, before giving the dog some slack. "Go for it, good boy."

The pair walked for a good fifteen minutes, Hank stopping every once in a while to check their location and peer down dark alleyways. Occasionally, something would flash in his peripheral vision and his heart would skip a beat, mind already full of images of a thirium trail and a red LED, but it was usually neon lights reflecting off rain puddles. 

Sumo seemed to know exactly where he was going, but in the darkness and the cold rain, Hank was lost. His phone had run out of battery a couple blocks back, which meant he had no map to reference. "Where are we going, huh buddy? Whose trail are you following?" But Sumo remained silent, a dog on a mission with no time for trivial things such as replying to his owner.

No map and no idea of when they would reach their destination meant Hank's mind had the space to wander, and wander it did. The cold rain on his back and under his collar sobered him up quickly, dripping down his hair and into his eyes. Guilt seemed to be what haunted him the most. _Why did things escalate so quickly?_ In all his years of drinking, he had never snapped like that before. _Had he finally met his limit?_ He swiped at his eyes to clear them, and despite being mostly sober, he was still drunk enough to be able to convince himself that the water in his eyes was only rain.

Hank was jolted out of his thoughts when Sumo stopped suddenly, the big dog unapologetically turning to watch Hank curse and stumble over his feet. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, no need to trip me," Hank said, squinting up at the building they had arrived at. The police station loomed over them, quiet and empty. All the windows were dark save one on the bottom floor, lit very dimly by what Hank could only assume was one of the desk lamps. Either a detective had stayed very, very late, or-

A figure crossed in front of the window, and Hank would have mistaken it for a late worker except for the small flash of blue light at the figure's eye level. _Connor_.

Sumo barked, loudly, and the figure froze before walking up to the window. Hank stood there, unsure of what to do, until Connor raised his hand and waved very slightly. The older detective let out an unbidden sigh of relief, before tugging on the leash and jogging up the steps with Sumo on his heels. Hank pushed open the door, letting Sumo pass ahead of him before shutting it firmly against the wind.

Connor's desk lamp was the only thing illuminating the room, casting a yellow glow on work obviously brought out to give Connor something to do. Connor himself stood next to the desk, looking uncomfortable. Silence reigned before Sumo borfed and tugged harshly at the leash. Hank dropped it, letting the Saint Bernard trot to Connor and worm his way into the android's arms, the sight pulling at Hank's already-exhausted heart. "Look, Connor, I didn't mean-"

Connor's disappointed look shut him up pretty quickly. "Hank, I realize that you did not intend for your words to be so harsh. However, the fact that they were harsh at all further proves my point." Hank had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Clearly, the influence of alcohol does nothing to positively impact you or the choices you make."

Hank ran a hand through his hair, wiping the water off his hand and onto his jacket. "I-I know." He cursed. "Can you forgive me?"

Connor sat down to allow Sumo better access, the giant puppy taking the opportunity to plop heavily in Connor's lap. "You know I forgive you, but this conversation doesn't stop with that. I need you to at least consider what I've told you. I don't enjoy 'nagging' you, Hank." He broke eye contact to look down at Sumo and cup the dog's head in his hands. Both the android and the dog seemed to be taking comfort in the other's presence, and Hank felt both even _more guilty,_ and left out. "I certainly don't enjoy watching you harm yourself every time you open a bottle."

Hank winced. He knew Connor disapproved of his drinking - how could he not, with the amount of times Connor scolded him for it - but when the kid put it that way, well. It weighed on his conscience. And Hank had never liked his conscience very much to begin with. "I hate it too, kid-" Connor opened his mouth, but Hank waved a hand in the android's direction. "-but it's not an easy habit to break. You androids don't have to deal with crap like this. Humans get addicted to stuff they don't need and habits they can't break, and it's always easier to just stay the same than change." He rubbed his eyes, then heaved a sigh. "I've tried. I've tried and it's never worked, and every time I failed it made it so much easier to just...stay the same."

"Let me assist you in changing, then. And I mean let me do other things besides give you reminders to stop that you don't even listen to. I can offer alternative ways to cope with your emotions or fill your free time." Connor met his gaze, brown eyes determined. "And, please, listen to me. CyberLife did not give me processing data for it to be ignored, Hank. I can, in fact, provide useful information that _doesn't_ have to do with crime scenes." Was that sass? Hank smiled. "Can we go home now? I wish to put on dry clothes."

"Yeah, kid. I'm beat. It's way too late for this nonsense." Hank walked over to them to help Connor up and clip on Sumo's leash once more. He offered the nylon cord to Connor, who took it with no hesitation. "You get to walk him home, he pulled the whole way."

Connor looked up from patting the dog's head in confusion. "But Sumo never pulls when we walk him."

Hank's smile grew to a grin. "Yeah, I know." He clicked off Connor's lamp and shoved the paperwork into a drawer. Connor held open the door for the three of them, LED glowing a soft, steady blue.

Hank flipped up his collar against the weather, and they set off towards home. "...I appreciate you coming after me." Connor shoved his free hand into his sweatshirt's pocket. Cars sped past the three of them, sky dark but the path lit by streetlights. Hank, the most certain he had been all night, knew his way home.

Hank bumped his shoulder against Connor's. "Always, kid. You're family, okay?"

Hank wasn't one for sentiment, but Connor's bright smile was enough to spark something warm in his chest. They'd be alright, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so ik this doesnt remotely cover,, all the things they need to talk about but. this is a start for our two boys that do not know How To Emotion Correctly

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was hank and connor arguing and the requisite comfort afterwards! choo choo angst train yeee
> 
> hey hey hey! this was gonna be a oneshot but. i made it two. i dont know why. just take it and run im sorryy


End file.
